The Last Stand (A Lily and James Potter Fanfiction)
by pottiehead101
Summary: Ever wondered what happened the tragic night that James and Lily Potter gave up their lives? Find out now in 'The Last Stand'. A quiet street, a cold night. A loving mother and her young child, a laughing father with wild black hair. A murderer approaching. This is the sacrifice. The love, that changed the future of the wizarding world forever. A short one-shot of that fateful day.


The street was still.

Still, but for the gentle rustling of leaves in the distance and the soft chirp of crickets that lay planted around the shrubs of the suburban homes.

The only light arose from the house hidden on the edge, half-obscured by the trees that sprouted beside the white picket fence. If one was to approach the dwelling, they would find nothing, nothing but an empty patch of unbuilt land, for it would become invisible to those ignorant of its secrets.

Lily Evans was seated on a tan, leather couch, her face glowing with mirth and fondness, as she watched James Potter chase after their son, his face thrown back with laughter, treading after him with heavy footsteps. Harry was propelling around the room on his miniature broomstick, his little tufts of black hair tousling madly in the breeze.

Normally, she would have chastised her husband for encouraging the young boy, for the living room was much too small and cluttered for such commotion, particularly after Harry had almost smashed the horrid vase Petunia had sent her - but today she felt too happy, too amused to reprimand them.

Despite only being months past one-year-old, the infant was already in love with flying, a passion that she knew he had inherited from his father. She could tell that he already had a gift for it. Although, his age often still resulted in many unfortunate accidents.

"Watch out!"

Lily startled. Harry was shooting like a tiny jet, straight towards her face. Spreading out her arms, she grabbed the boy as he flew, scraping him straight into her embrace. He immediately gurgled out a laugh, pudgy fingers reaching up to grab her hair.

Lily kissed him tenderly on the forehead, and the boy began to squirm against her grip, indicating towards a half-bitten toy that lay on the ground, next to the table. She set him on the ground, and he immediately hobbled over clumsily, plopping down, to seat himself on the floor.

"Oh?" James said, pulling her into his own embrace, now that their boy was out of her arms. "Not going to scold me today, Evans?" He laughed again, the sound warm and rich. "This must be a first."

"He's happy," Lily said. "And that makes me happy."

James placed a hand against her cheek, his eyes adoring. "I told you that you'd make a good mother."

He drew nearer, so that she could feel his breath against her mouth, and he lightly allowed his lips to linger over her own, so that they were millimetres apart, almost touching, but still not quite. He was teasing her again.

Instinctively, Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, her mouth caressing his with a sudden hunger. His mouth was cool, although his skin feverish. She found that he tasted vaguely like mint.

James deepened the kiss, and gently wrapped his hands around her slim waist, touching her as if he were a man parched with thirst, and she was the only water in his life. He gently stroked her along her back, before his hand rested at the concave between her two shoulder bones.

When they finally pulled apart, James' hair was even more dishevelled than usual, and his breath came out in heavy pants. He grinned at her, the expression amused.

"Excited, aren't we?" James raised an eyebrow, and wagged his index finger at her. "I thought you told me that it was wrong to snog in front of Harry?"

Her cheeks flared.

"I-I …" she stuttered, momentarily losing her composure.

"Not that I mind of course," he whispered into her ear. "You're quite a brilliant kisser."

She smiled at that. "I must have learned from the best."

"That you did."

His mouth found hers again.

After a minute, James suddenly pulled away. There was something terrible about the look he bore – stunned horror and distress. He had been facing the window, and now his face was as white as a sheet. He looked as if he had come face to face with the devil himself.

Lily swallowed, swiftly growing nervous himself. "James," she said, her voice anxious, "James, what is it?"

"Lily," he croaked. His voice rose into a shout. "Lily, run!"

She stared at him in shock.

"Voldemort."

That single word, was all it took for her world to shatter. The events blurred into a haze. She lunged forwards, and hauled Harry so roughly into her grasp, that the boy burst into wailing tears.

"Hide!" James' voice was tense, the urgency ringing between every note. "Take Harry to safety!"

She turned, about to rush up the stairs, but froze.

"What about you?"

"I'll distract him," he was trying to inject confidence into his tone. "I can take him on. Lily, run!"

"You don't even have a wand!" she burst out, frantic.

Unshed tears gathered between the corners of her eyes. She felt faint. She felt as if the world was coming to a stop - that there was nothing in front now, only her family, nothing except for the nightmare they were doomed to face.

"He'll kill you," she whispered, after a pause. Her voice trembled so much that it was barely audible.

Without warning, James wrenched her head towards his, and pressed against her lips with such urgency that she gasped. He seemed to be saying a desperate, silent farewell.

The moment did not last long, for he glanced out the window again. "Lily," he said, face sombre, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I love you. You're the love of my life. You always have been, and you always will be. It would be an honour for me to die for you and Harry."

She was sobbing. They both were sobbing.

"Now. Get our son to safety."

"I love you too," she breathed, and launched herself into a run, urging her stiffened legs to move along the steps with the speed of a sprinter.

She had just made it to the bedroom, when she heard the cold voice, _his_ voice, say in a tone devoid of emotion:

"Avada Kedavra."

A body slumped to the floor.

Lily felt something rupture inside her, something that she thought could never be healed again. She dropped Harry into his cot, pressing a hand against her mouth, as she strained to mask the scream of agony that escaped, her voice ringing in the air.

The sound of feet gliding up the stairs, broke Lily out of her trance, replacing her heartbreak with terror, terror for her beloved child. She threw herself forwards, and shoved at the armchairs in the corner of the room, struggling to block the door.

Distantly, she knew that her attempts were all in vain, that he would penetrate through the walls to them, no matter what she did. But she swallowed, and tried to steel herself.

She would not let him take her son. Not when he had already taken away her husband.

The door burst open. Voldemort stood in the doorway, his wand drawn.

"Not Harry!" she screamed. "Not Harry, please. Please not Harry. I'll do anything!"

"Stand aside," he hissed. "Stand aside! You silly girl … stand aside. NOW!"

"Not Harry, please, no … take me instead!"

The weeps poured out, as she remembered her innocent son. Her son who had not been allowed to properly live yet. Her son who she would never see grow old, who she would never see fly again, her son who she would never see marry and fall in love himself.

Her son who deserved a future. Her only child.

"Please," she begged. "Have mercy … he's just a boy … have mercy."

Voldemort's eyes were filled with malice, and he laughed, the sound shrill and bitter.

"So this is love?" he spat out, "A Mudblood woman so desperate, so pathetic, that she would sacrifice herself for her son? Stand aside girl. This is the last time I will ask you."

Lily shook her head. "Take me instead," she repeated.

Voldemort's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You must love the boy," he said, his lips curled up, but his eyes cold. "What is love?" he continued, taunting, "What is love, but a cruel disease, an infection that strips the mind of its senses? There is no reason, no logic to it - it is nothing but a bitter plague that leaves havoc in its path."

"That's why you will fail," said Lily, her voice suddenly steady. "You're ignorant."

He gave a dark laugh, a laugh without mirth. "Stand aside."

"No," she latched her hands around a heavy book, preparing to hurtle it at the murderer, but Voldemort's glacial eyes met her own, and they narrowed.

"Avada Kedavra."

The last thing Lily remembered before the world misted into white, was the sound of Voldemort's own scream. A scream of pain, so filled with torment that it shook her to the bone.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Her final thought. "I'm sorry we left you."

Everything went white.


End file.
